Something Different

I've been thinking about my Blog for some time now. I like writing it, but to be honest, am running out of interesting things to say. Rather than talk about banal things, or worse, only about myself, I decided it would be better to talk about my days as a Child Protection Social Worker. During those eleven years, I certainly learned about life and the human condition - some times in the most unceremonious of ways.
As a green Social Worker of zilch experience, I remember being allocated a family of two adults and six children. The father, Ben and mother Clara (not their real names) had been known to the Social Services Department since they themselves were children. The father, being out of work, used to spend all day on his computer playing games and drinking cans of lager. He was known for his short fuse and was well-known to the police. Clara smoked sixty cigarettes a day and like the odd can of lager as well.
The main concern about the parents was that they weren't putting their children's needs before their own. The children's schools reported them coming lessons, unfed, unkempt and looking tired most of the time.
When I first looked through the files - all nine of them, I saw there were countless occasions where Clara came to Social Services for money to feed her children. There were also recorded instances of Ben hitting Clara in front of the children.
Ben also had a collection of pornographic movies, which the children had access to.
Eventually, after one more failed attempt at getting the parents to make changes, I had to take the case to court. In the event, the Interim Care Order wasn't granted, because of insufficient evidence of neglect. However, six weeks after this, the father rang me and said that if I didn't remove the children that day, he would kill them. That was enough evidence to take them, and we did.
Most children in Foster Care aren't happy. One day I might elaborate on that, but for the purpose of this post, I just need to say that these six children weren't happy, because they missed their parents and hated being 'different' from their peers at school.
Six weeks after the children were removed, I learned from a Community Midwife (Clara was pregnant again) that a new puppy had been introduced into the, home. When questioned about it, Ben said he loved his new pet and would never want to be rid of it. "After all," he added, "A dog is for life, not just for Christmas, isn't it?"

Amazon and the Like

Now I've worked out the nuances of the Amazon rankings, I check them once a week to see if I've made any sales. Zero is usually the answer.
At first I was unhappy about this. After a couple of days musing, however, I realised it wasn't my writing that was the problem, it was a compilation of a couple of things. First, I don't write about vampires and I don't write about sex. I don't think there's anything wrong with these genres, it's just that they aren't the subjects I choose to be concerned with. However, I know that these are the hottest genres at the moment and that many people, when they go to buy a book online, actively seek them out.
The second reason is that I don't sell myself. I've joined writers' and readers' sites in an effort to get myself known, of course. I also blog and read others' blogs. However, paying for my books to be put in the foreground on these sites, to me, smacks of desperation, ditto paying for a reviewer, and I simply refuse to do these things. I work on the premise that if people want to read my work, they'll do so whether I get my money out or not. As a reader myself, I get pretty pissed off with the hard sell, and would prefer to browse my way around unhindered by intrusive advertising.
Now for my Burning Issues Spot. If anybody reads this blog, they'll know that I'm a political animal and like to discuss the events of the day.
The biggest news story at the moment is the mosque near the Ground Zero site. I've read both sides of the argument, and believe myself that the mosque shouldn't be so near to where thousands of people died. It's not that I think all Moslems are fanatics. I know that the majority are peaceful, and it's just a handful of idiots, with a control problem who are making life invidious for them. For me, not building the mosque is a question of respect for the dead and nothing more.
I abhor any form of fanaticism, which means I'd place the preacher from Florida, threatening to burn the Koran, up there among the supremest of fanatical idiots. I just wish people would understand others' need to worship the way that they choose and be done with it.
Finally, autumn is here again. It's my favourite time of the year, and I'm off to the coast to catch the last remnants of its sunshine, before the winter sets in.